


Flowers That Grow Amidst the Void

by irish_trash_cash



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Accents, Asexual Character, Basically my OC's perspective the entire time, Bilingual Character(s), Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, I have a lot of tags, I wrote this instead of doing any papers this semester, Low Chaos Corvo Attano, Low Chaos Emily Kaldwin, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Origin Story, Post-Game(s), Pre-Game(s), Silent Protagonist, Somewhat, Story within a Story, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, more tags to come as I update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2018-10-26 14:54:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10788966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irish_trash_cash/pseuds/irish_trash_cash
Summary: Synnove will gladly admit that she’s not comfortable with killing people. As much as she despises the nobles that live on the Isles, they’re really her only source of income, so killing them would be a waste, as she’d have no one left to loot and rob for money and supplies. It was this quality that first gained his attention, only to then pull him further into his curiosity when he discovered the purpose behind it. When she said she would get something done, she was determined to do it, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least give her a helping hand.





	1. Launch

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something I decided to whip up with a character I made a while back. I don't expect it to get too long, but I do intend to finish it. I'm hoping to post a short chapter or two every few weeks, so it should be easy to keep up. Feel free to drop me a comment with what you think too, especially if you have any suggestions!

Synnove hugged her knees as she choked down a sob, pulling her legs closer to her chest as she laughed. The laugh was quiet- a low chuckle aimed to ease her anxiety. A lighthearted cry for help. If she looked close enough at her reflection in the small mirror across from her, Synnove could see the fractures in her eyes, breaking like ice as the shouting outside continued on.

She watched through the cracks in the wall as the sky grew dark and the apartment grew quiet. But the calmness around her was masked by the heavy snowfall outside that blew frigid wind into the tiny room, freezing tears under her eyes and stinging her cheeks. She was constantly reminding herself to keep quiet as she let it all out- softly praying to the Outsider that everything would be okay and that _Mama_ or _Papa_ would come for her soon.

Synnove waited in the crawlspace under the stairs for six days before her dwindling rations and bitter cold forced her out. Throwing herself against the loose, wooden panel a few times, Synnove eventually broke free, stumbling over the uneven floor and landing on her face in the empty hallway. It didn’t take long for Synnove to fumble around for a match, lighting a lantern and searching the house.

Her parents had gone over the drill with her many times before; if anyone came to the door she was to hide in the crawlspace her father hollowed out of the stairs. It had been stocked with a week’s worth of rations, dry blankets, matches, a few books and toys to occupy her- she’d only had to go there twice, and both times it was a false alarm. This was the third time, and the reality of the situation was just beginning to set in as Synnove checked upstairs for the tenth time, her body shaking and wracked with tears.

Everything in the house was the same as before, and Synnove started her process of moving in by clearing her room, grabbing her father’s rusted box of makeshift tools from the kitchen and taking apart all her sloppily-built furniture. From there she made a fire. It took a while, but she eventually got the hang of it, throwing the dismembered pieces of her dresser into the fireplace and moving on to the next room.

Despite all previous preparation for this moment, Synnove was surprised at how calm she was. She was taught from an early age that her parents being incarcerated was inevitable, so they did everything they could to prepare her for when the time came. From time management, rationing food, starting fires, and disassembling every piece of furniture in the apartment for firewood, she knew it all.

Synnove replayed her last memories with her parents in her head as she lay on the dilapidated stack of mattresses in the corner of her parents’ old room. Bundling herself up in a pile of stiff, wool blankets, she allowed a few tears to drip down her cheeks, making a mental note of everything she needed to do when she got up.

Synnove fell asleep after another hour, clutching a salvaged rune to her chest and drying her eyes with her sleeve as the first rays of the sun peeked in through the shuttered windows.

* * *

Synnove didn’t want to be afraid of people. She always believed in a higher power, mediating the good and bad, ever-present somewhere in the cold, dark corners of the world. She felt unnaturally at ease as she made her way to the apartment balcony, unlocking the double doors and tightening her scarf around her face as the harsh Winter air burned her nostrils.

Leaping over the iron railing, Synnove secured the bag on her shoulder as she slid down the winched chain, landing on the balcony three floors down and vaulting over the banister. She landed in the alleyway below with a soft crunch, swiftly making her way across the snow-covered pathway and out into the street. The City Watch was growing more aware of the presence of thieves and assassins as the years went on, but as guild, after guild was shut down, Synnove only found life alone even more preferable.

She’d tried to join a guild once, years ago- one run by supporters of the late Prince Fedya. She thought she was hot shit then too- making her own shoddy equipment and stumbling across rooftops with as much elegance and grace as a drunken ox. She’d never been so quickly turned down in all her life. Despite the skill she thought she possessed, no one was willing to take in some homesick ten-year-old looking to find her lost parents.

Synnove habitually clutched at the strap of her bag once more as she made her way through the city, keeping quiet, keeping low- listening closely for the sound of chattering guards or lanky hounds looking for their next meal.

“Keep your eyes peeled. He's due to ride through any minute. Be on high alert.” someone commanded, and Synnove took a moment to ascend a stack of crates and pull herself onto a nearby ventilation duct.

Five Lower Guards and an Officer stood a ways down the street, and Synnove let go an exhale in frustration as she climbed further up the side of the building. If what the Officer said was true, she didn’t have long to reach her destination and, keeping that in mind, she took off across the rooftops, only allowing herself to stop once she’d made it there.

It had been over ten years since she was left to fend for herself, her parents hauled off to an encampment by the City Watch, under the order of the Abbey. She’d spent that time training herself, utilizing any tricks she’d learned by watching others like her getting by on their own. It wasn’t until she was fifteen that she started making use of what others were too greedy to give to her. She liked to say she was borrowing until she was able to pay them back, but deep down, Synnove knew she never would. She only ever stole from people who wouldn’t notice- people who had plenty to steal. However, she only took what she needed to get by. Too much goes missing, and word gets out that there’s a lone thief in Tamarak, and people will start bolting doors and windows and buying security systems.

Which brought Synnove to her current situation.

The Secretary of Tamarak was a lazy slob who went about his time over-taxing the lower districts and sending any that wouldn’t oblige to encampments in the frozen wastes outside the cities. He wasn’t the one responsible for what happened to her parents, but he was the only one who would have a record of where they were taken. Whether or not they were alive, Synnove didn’t know- she didn't  _want_ to know- but she’d be damned if she’d sit idly by while they chip away at salt veins deep underground for the rest of their lives.

Synnove’s shoddy, apartment was nothing compared to the Secretary’s regal abode strung high with stained glass and balconies on every side. Synnove made her way around the surrounding rooftops a few times before deciding her best point of entry. Unlatching the coarse rope from her waist, she hunched down for a moment to attach a large whaling hook to one end, soon standing and giving it a few swift swings before tossing it toward the Eastern tower of the Secretary’s hall.

A dull _clunk_ rang out down the streets as it latched on to the spire, and Synnove waited for a moment before seating herself on the edge of the roof, firmly grasping the rope with both hands and nestling her boots against the tight knot at the end. A moment of hesitation later, and she leaned forward, dropping swiftly from the rooftop and swinging fast toward the Secretary’s office window. Synnove managed to slow herself to enough of a degree that she could grab onto the edge of the roof and ease herself down to the balcony below.

Synnove hunkered down, keeping low as she pressed her ear to the door, listening for any activity inside before reaching for her bag. It didn’t take long for her to pick the lock, waiting a moment before fully opening the door and entering the Secretary’s study.

The fireplace was lit but low, reduced to only a handful of glowing embers to light that half of the room. Making her way over to the large, walnut desk before it, Synnove began rummaging through the drawers, being careful to put everything back exactly where she’d found it, to avoid suspicion. She didn’t have much time before the Secretary got back and, hauling a large book out of the lowest right drawer, Synnove quickly flipped through in search of what she needed.

“-’ve never heard of such a thing. What makes her think it can be categorized as a plague anyways?”

Synnove snapped her head up from the book, eyes widening as she quickly shut it, stuffing it into her bag as the tall, double doors in front of her opened.

Everything after that seemed to happen all too fast. Synnove took a much-regretted moment of hesitation, waiting too long to make her escape and instead allowing herself to glare surprisingly at the Secretary and the man with him.

“Guards!” The Secretary shouted, and the man next to him took a step forward, drawing a sword from his hip as he pushed the Secretary behind him. Synnove quickly snapped out of her daze though, smoothly crouching just as the man's blade swung over her head. Pulling a dagger from her boot, Synnove countered him, taking a swift jab at his dominant side before their blades collided and locked against each other. Her opponent was much stronger than she, however, and he soon shoved her back toward the wall, his blade shifting down to hook the hilt of her smaller one.

Time seemed to slow for a moment as Synnove studied the man for any possible weaknesses. He very clearly wasn’t Tyvian- dark hair and eyes giving him a very ominous aura, and tanned skin suggesting he hailed from somewhere much further south. His thick eyebrows creased and lips were drawn up over his teeth in a vicious snarl, and as Synnove looked away from him, she noted the position of his arm- tucked slightly into his side as if restrained. Synnove decided to take her chances, and brought her knee up, nailing him in the ribs.

The man let out a snarl, doubling over and clutching his side. Synnove took no time in discarding her dagger and making her way across the room in a full sprint, shoving open the balcony door and throwing herself onto the rope still left hanging from where she entered. Just as her hands clutched the rope, cutting into the bare skin of her fingers, a shot rang out. Sailing forward through the air, Synnove felt a sharp pain graze her right hip, and she instinctively let go of the rope, falling forward and through the upper floor window of the neighboring building.


	2. Remedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts with a bit of a flashback, before going back to present time. I don't like how disjointed stories get when the author provides translations in parentheses next to a foreign sentence or word, so if any of you are curious, I'll provide translations for any used in the end notes. Since Tyvia is largely based on Eastern Europe and Scandinavia, Synnove's native language is a combination of Russian, Polish, and Swedish, although in-story it's recognized as Tyvian.

She was thirteen, the first time she saw it.

It was unexpectedly cold, and Synnove had gone out in the slight warmth of the midday sun in search of anyone unsuspecting that she could easily target. A few bustling women in fluffy gowns and fur hats, a lanky man further down the street- she’d managed to collect a heavy handful of gold and copper coins by the time the sun began to set.

The wind nipped viciously at her nose and tips of her ears, forcing Synnove to pull her coat collar up around her neck as she made her way back home, cutting through alleyways and avoiding as many guards as she could manage. But Synnove was still young- still inexperienced- and it didn’t take long for trouble to find its way to her.

“What is of the matter, _kotenok_? Get lost from your _Mama_?” Synnove could remember the thickly-accented words as clear as day. She remembered trying to act tough at first, reaching to grab the kitchen knife sheathed inside her jacket as the burly man approached her in the alley. Tyvia alone was hardly a safe place for a young girl like herself to roam around without an adult, but at the time she was fearless- she thought she could easily evade anything the world had to throw at her. Looking back, she can’t believe how ignorant she’d been.

Synnove made a move to run past him but he stuck an arm out, catching her around the waist and throwing her back to the frozen ground of the alleyway. She scooted backward in the snow for a moment before a large boot planted itself on her chest, knocking the air from her lungs and rendering her immobile.

“ _Verni eto_! _Eto moye_!” Synnove screamed, thrashing more as the man sneered, flashing rotted teeth at her as he grabbed her small bag of coin, tossing it in the air in victory. He whistled a moment later, tossing the pouch over his shoulder as he continued searching through Synnove’s coat and pockets.

“This one is bit young, don’t you think?” A new voice said, tired and dreary, as if the owner had just awoke from a nap.

“You think Mikko will care? He will still pay.” The man above her spat back, grabbing the bone charm sewed to the inside of her jacket. Synnove jerked around, grabbing the man’s large hand in her smaller two before he could pull it from the fabric.

“No! _Ne trogayte eto_!” she screamed once more, not caring if a City Guard or some other passerby heard her. The man’s hand went slack for a moment before he let out a rumbling laugh, backhanding her with a stinging slap that resonated through the alley.

Synnove gasped, clutching her face and willing herself to stop sobbing as the snow around her melted through the thin fabric of her clothes, chilling her to the bone. But suddenly the pressure on her chest was gone and she could breathe. Rolling across the ground, she grabbed her discarded knife as the man once holding her down was thrown forward- face first into the fence and yelling bloody murder as something latched itself onto him.

For a moment all Synnove could do was kneel there in the snow and watch as everything unfolded. The sting in her eyes made it hard to see, but Synnove could recognize the spray of blood on freshly-fallen snow, gushing from the first man’s neck as he let out a throaty gurgle, clutching at his collar as he slid to the ground. The second man ran back from where he came, and as his distant screams reverberated down the street, Synnove hurriedly crawled to where the first man lie, wiping her eyes clear with the back of her sleeve and blinking a few times to regain her sight.

Whatever attacked him clearly wasn’t good; black ink seemed to drip from the man’s wound and his eyes like paint, mixing with the blood that oozed down his torso and stained the snow-covered cobblestone below. Bringing a tentative hand forward, Synnove tried her best to look away from the gaping wound in the man’s neck as she looted his body. A handful of gold coins, a craggy knife, a canister of chewing tobacco- Synnove decided she might as well steal the man’s clothes if they were useful too, stripping off his belt, gloves, and the leather straps across his hip and over his shoulder.

It was then that she realized the other man had stopped screaming.

For a moment everything felt cold and hot at the same time. Breathing seemed more difficult than she remembered, and an unknown emptiness found its way into Synnove’s body as she hesitantly turned around, coming face-to-face with whatever had saved her.

The shadowy being before her took the shape of some unholy amalgamation of darkness, seeped in the essence of the Void. Flowing through the air like oil in water, it seemed content at just remaining still, watching her stare back at it.

Synnove sat in shock for a moment, unsure of what to do. If she moved, would it attack her too? Throw her to the wall and rip out her throat as it did the dead man beside her? The being made a move forward and Synnove shuffled away, falling onto her back as it inched closer, acting almost as wary of her as she was of it.

In a single, rippling movement, it produced a hand- bony and black, extending outward toward Synnove’s trembling form. Entwined in its fingers was a string, attached to a leather bag. The being dangled it in front of her for a moment before dropping it to the ground- disappearing before Synnove could even register that it was her coin pouch.

* * *

Synnove awoke with a gasp, instinctively jolting upright before she could register that she was tied to the leg of the bed below her

“You know, if I wanted to kill you I would have aimed higher.” a deep voice pointed out, making Synnove grunt in frustration, testing her bonds as she looked around the room. Seated across from her was a man- the foreigner who was with the Secretary- as well as what looked like a doctor further across the room, wrapping a roll of bandages.

“Why did you not?” Synnove hissed, struggling more until the man stood up, letting out a low chuckle as he moved toward her.

“Tell you what,” he started, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll let you out of those, but only if you answer any questions I ask you. Then maybe I’ll answer some of yours.”

Synnove stopped there, taking a moment to consider her options before muttering “ _Da_. That is fine.”

The man smiled then, grunting and clutching his side as he leaned forward and unfastened the strap around Synnove’s hands.

“Corvo Attano. Royal Protector of the Empress of Dunwall.” he introduced, extending a hand in her direction as the doctor silently moved over to adjust the bandages around his ribs. Synnove hesitated for a moment, deciding to just give a nod in reply as she rubbed the strain from her wrists.

“Magda.” was all she replied, and Corvo seemed content with this, soon moving across the room to fill two scummy glasses with what Synnove assumed was water. She took this time to sit upright, wincing and moving to rub her hip as a jolt of pain resonated across her skin.

“I didn’t kill you because you didn’t give me any reason to.” Corvo explained.

“What?” Synnove asked, furrowing her thin eyebrows and giving him a confused look.

“You asked me why, a minute ago.” he elaborated, making his way back over and handing her a glass. “I _could_ have, but I didn’t. All you did was sneak into the Secretary’s study and kick me in the gut.”

Synnove let out a small laugh at this.

“Now you answer me: why were you in the Secretary’s study?”

Synnove handed her glass back to him, pursing her lips as she wondered what excuse was the best to give him.

“Ledger.”

“This?” Corvo asked, reaching to the table behind him and waving around the book Synnove had made off with. “I assume you’re tracking someone down then?” he inquired. Synnove nodded her head, making a move to grab the book from his hands.

To her surprise, Corvo easily lets her take it, relaxing in his chair as Synnove hurriedly flipped through the name index. After a while, however, her face fell. 

“Something wrong?” Corvo asked, and Synnove opened her mouth to reply, but soon shut it, slightly embarrassed about the situation. 

“I-” Synnove began, cutting herself short and looking around the room anxiously. “ _ Du. Ty pratar Tyvian? Tak? _ ” She demanded, looking up at the doctor, and the man slowly nodded.

“ _ Liten. Niedobrze. Ne pervyy, _ ” The man replied, and Synnove let out a sigh. “Lord Attano,” the Doctor began. “I don’t believe she knows how to read the language.”

Synnove looked up and glared at him, tightening her jaw in an attempt to look intimidating. 

“Give me that book then,” Corvo said, reaching forward and taking the ledger before Synnove could react. “What are you looking for?” He asked, flipping through the pages and scanning the elegant writing. 

“Matveev” Synnove replied stubbornly. “Otso and Sanna.” 

Corvo flipped through the pages as the doctor glanced over his shoulder, soon stopping about halfway through the book. 

“It says they were- living in Meya, from 1826 to 1831, but moved to Yaro after then.” The doctor read aloud, adjusting his glasses to see more easily. Synnove nodded as Corvo handed her the book, and she immediately tore out the page, ignoring the look of surprise and horror on the men's’ faces.

“Boots. Coat. Where did put them?” Synnove demanded, standing from the bed and limping a few feet across the room, ignoring the hushed protest of the doctor as he tried to get her to sit down again. 

“Do you want to know why I didn’t turn you into the Operators?” Corvo asked, and Synnove stopped in her tracks, halfway through pulling her things out from below the table in the center of the room. “You had every opportunity to kill me or the Secretary, but you didn’t. Why?”

“I don’t like death,” Synnove replied dryly, continuing with her dressing routine and heading out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Kotenok- Kitten/Cat.  
> Mama- Mother.  
> Verni eto! Eto moye!- Give it back! It's mine!  
> Ne trogayte eto!- Don't touch that!  
> Da- Yes.  
> Du. Ty pratar Tyvian? Tak?- You. Do you speak Tyvian? Yes?  
> Liten. Niedobrze. Ne pervyy- Little. Not good. Not first.


	3. Notion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's fairly short, but I promise the next few will be longer. I'm dealing with a lot of preparations for graduation right now, so writing is one of the last things I'm able to do once the day is done. As always though, don't hesitate to drop a Kudos or a comment if you want to tell me how I'm doing or give any suggestions!

When she was younger, Synnove was afraid of monsters in the dark- hiding under beds and behind doors, concealing their ugly faces as they waited for the perfect time to strike. But as she grew older she began to fear humans more. Ones that stood in the light, with clean clothes and clear faces- especially the ones that smiled at her.

“Miss Anja, what do you bring for me today?” the familiar voice asked. Filat was an aged man, well-fed and about her height, if not shorter by a few units, and sporting a shiny head and a long, ashen beard. He was a shopkeeper, but not just any _normal_ kind; where his dilapidated store looked normal on the outside, the man had been able to secretly manage a black market trade route through the underground sewers connecting to neighboring cities for long before Synnove was born. It was difficult for Synnove to trust people, but she trusted him to a degree. Trust was a weakness in her eyes- something that would only get her killed if she allowed herself to let her guard down. No one could ever be too sure if the local courier or friendly shopkeeper was actually an Operator spy.

“This is all.” She replied, responding acutely to the fake name she’d given him years ago. Slinging her bag over her shoulder and onto the counter, Synnove emptied it out, displaying a few wads of copper wire, a pound or so of Tyvian ore, and some salvaged, glass bottles she’d both stolen and drank the contents of, herself.

“Thirty for the wire, twice for ore, and ten for bottles.” Filat slurred, picking up a spool of the wire and weighing it in his hands.

“ _Sprawa._ ” Synnove agreed and anxiously waited while Filat gathered everything from the counter and counted out the coin.

“You looking for something particular today?”

“Map.”

Filat nodded his head, ducking below the counter for a moment before reappearing with an armful of parchment, yellowed and cracked from years of use. He placed them on the far end, allowing Synnove to hop over and examine them for which one she liked best, while he moved to the back to store the goods he’d just purchased from her.

Synnove flipped through the first few pages, crinkling her nose at the musty smell that floated off of them, pulling up her scarf to mask it. From there she separated the maps into two piles- maps of other Isles, and maps of Tyvia. An older-looking map from the Tyvian pile caught her eye, and she pulled up a stool to sit on as she examined it closer. It was indeed old, but very well drawn, boasting detailed outlines of the coast, cities, and towns, locations of ice shelves and whaling territories- but she couldn't understand much of it aside from the pictures and symbols. Synnove figured she’d investigate it further once she got home, and chose to fold up the map, slipping it into her pocket and grabbing a more ordinary-looking map from the pile.

* * *

 Synnove took her usual route home- cutting into the alleyway across the street from Filat’s and making her way up the slick drain pipe to the roof of a neighboring building, as best she could without tearing the stitching on her hip. Synnove was about as nocturnal as the beasts that roamed the forests outside the city. Since she began living on her own, she eventually made habit of sleeping during the day, using whatever she could to block out the sun until late at night when she could go out and pillage.

The sun was just coming up over the horizon when she returned home, leaping from her spot on the rooftop and landing quietly on her balcony. The apartment had changed a lot since that first day- when she rushed to take apart furniture and make a stock of food, wondering if her parents would come back, or worse, the men that took them away. Eventually, a handful of City Watchmen did return, followed by a cart of plywood and some hammers and nails. They boarded up the entrances to all the apartments while Synnove hid cowering under the stairs yet again, leaving her with only the iron balcony to enter and exit.

Walking into her apartment, Synnove quickly moved the large piece of wood over the balcony doorway, pulling back the bundle of thick curtains over it and tying them down to the floor. In the years since she initially got the place to herself, Synnove had moved everything into the lower level. The old kitchen and dining area were primarily for storage and tinkering, while the living area was separated by a tall curtain, shrouding her bed from any wind that came through the makeshift door.

Kicking off her boots, Synnove fell back onto the dilapidated bed in the corner, pulling the map out of her pocket and smoothing it out flat on her mattress.

“Meya to Yaro,” Synnove repeated to herself, skimming over the map and trying to figure out which dot represented Tamarak. But she didn't know how to tell- she tried her best to spell out the words on the page, but there was no way she could know for sure if she was right. “ _Knyaz’ya być cholerny_.” She cursed, springing from her bed and making her way into the kitchen area as the map fluttered to the floor.

Synnove noticed it as soon as she popped the cork from a bottle of wine- the faint blue glow of the lamp on the floor dimmed slightly, displaying an inky array of lines and symbols across the wall opposite her. Synnove glanced over, quickly slamming the bottle back onto the counter and making her way across the room in a dash, dropping to her knees to straighten the map and place it back across the screen of the lamp. The blue light emanating from it glowed through the old parchment, revealing hidden lines and writing from city to city. Synnove immediately grabbed a stick of chalk, outlining everything now visible on the paper.

* * *

 In the thousands of years that he’s watched humanity bring about their own ruin, he'd never seen many people like her.

In the thousands of years that he’s stood idly by, closely watching how every one of them goes about their short lives, he’s noticed that people had a lot of strings. Strings, not visible to the naked eye, connecting them. Every person had more than one soul that they connect to, and all over the world, he could see those invisible strings. It was when he observed her, however, that he felt a tug.

They’d only, hardly, met once, and yet a bond had already formed between them- a crimson string connecting her soul to his never-ending abode, first attaching itself after that incident in the alley all those years ago. Only seven other souls were connected to his being, and yet none had struck his curiosity quite like she did- well, _one_ of them did. A sickening, unfamiliar feeling settled in his gut but he immediately shooed it off, turning away from his thoughts and leaving humanity unattended for a while longer.

He’d thought about helping her many times before revealing himself and even more after, and even then she’s still never seen his true form. He’ll admit he had a habit of doing that to his candidates for his mark- helping them when they were in need, or giving them that little boost to see how they’d react- adding a bit to their food supply, taking out a guard that had grown too suspicious, placing a useful piece of equipment in the hands of someone they trusted.

It was time he invited her to the Void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Sprawa- Deal.  
> Knyaz’ya być cholerny- Princes be damned.


	4. Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty long- longer than any I've posted so far, but it does still end somewhat abruptly. However now that I'm graduated and out of school, I should be able to update much more frequently. As always drop a kudos if you like the story, and leave a comment if you have something to say or suggest too!

Synnove had encountered the inky, shadowy figures countless times in the years following her rescue by one in the alley. Whatever they were, where they came from, and why they seemed to follow her were things she asked herself often. Did they do this at all before one helped her? Synnove wasn’t sure- she did know, however, that the entities must not have an eye for only her.

Many times she’s seen them either on a rooftop or following behind some random pedestrian, who always ended up being pronounced dead before the end of the week. On a few occasions, she’d seen more than one, all taking on a variety of shapes and sizes as they hovered around, following unlucky people or just remaining stationary. For the longest time Synnove thought she was just sick or cursed or going blind, that is, until she met Corvo the night before.

She saw one hovering behind him when she’d woken up after going through that window- contorting the space between him and the doctor. It had finally moved after Corvo gave her the ledger, floating straight through him as Synnove studied the book. For a moment she saw Corvo’s gaze falter, shifting over the entity for a split second as it moved past her, looking as if he’d seen it before. This was the first time it seemed to want her to see it, as it formed one of its bony hands from its body, reaching outward and placing it on the book as Synnove handed it back to Corvo as if guiding her.

Synnove let out a groggy sigh as she woke up, cursing as she stretched her back, sore from lying awkwardly on the floor all afternoon. Standing up, she moved to the kitchen for her long-forgotten bottle of wine, grabbing at it with a huff and missing completely.

It took a few more tired tries at this before Synnove realized her hand was just swiping through the bottle.

Jumping back a bit in surprise, Synnove made a move to grab the table behind her, only to fall back through it and land hard on the floor, watching as the table dissolved into smoke and drifted away. Panicking, she scrambled up, running to the balcony and moving to push the curtains away, but just running through them instead as they too turned into wisps of smoke before her eyes. Her stomach made hard, unexpected contact with the iron railing as she ran outside, breathing heavily and blue eyes widening as she took in the view.

Wherever she was clearly wasn’t normal- chunks of Earth and dilapidated buildings seemed to float independently across an endless expanse of icy blue sky. Looking over the railing, Synnove took a moment to calm herself before vaulting over it, falling to the landmass below. She rolled to a stop before springing back up, not looking back as loud, indescribable noises rang out behind her.

“ _Vad eto koszmar_?” She wondered aloud, continuing to sprint as she leaped across the gap between landmasses, finding herself in a heavily-forested area once she landed- as if the environment had changed the moment her feet hit the ground. Synnove huffed loudly, dropping to her knees and grabbing handfuls of grass as her throat burned and her lungs heaved.

“ _Synnove_.”

She let out a yelp in surprise upon hearing her name, rolling onto her back and springing to stand as she searched around. Dark trees surrounded her on every side, tangled branches shifting violently with the wind above her head, and from the corner of her eye, she noticed the familiarly eerie specter.

“The greatest tragedy a soul can endure is to connect with another… and then be left alone.” The same voice said, and the entity shifted away as it finished. Synnove, against her better judgment, ran after it.

“Ten years ago, the only family you had was taken from you- and for ten years I’ve watched you prepare yourself for the day you might set out to find them.” The entity stopped for a moment when Synnove started to stray behind, still worn out from running.

“You have infinite potential.”

Synnove stumbled for a moment as she leapt over a fallen tree trunk.

“You can make anything, dream anything, _do anything_.”

She gritted her teeth when the entity failed to stay behind as it had before, breathing wildly and pushing herself to her limit.

“For this reason, I have chosen you, and drawn you into the Void.”

Synnove squinted her eyes, bringing a hand up to block the bright light that formed further into the forest.

“I, am the Outsider,”

The entity stopped before the light and turned to her, but Synnove kept running, even as it shifted into the form of a man.

“And _this is my mark_.”

As the voice said that, the entity dissolved into the air, forcing Synnove through the doorway of light before her. Wherever she landed, she wasn’t sure- she was too busy focusing on the white, hot pain in her shoulder. After all the time spent alone, Synnove thought her reaction to pain had just faded away. This, however, was absolutely excruciating.

Synnove dropped to her knees once again, letting out a feral scream as something burned through her sleeve. After a moment it died down, finishing off with a chilling _hiss_ , and she gasped, clutching the burnt fabric of her shirt sleeve and running her fingers over the raised scar on the skin below.

“There are forces in the world and beyond the world.” The same voice explained, sickeningly calm, given the situation. “Great forces that men call magic,” it continued. “And now these forces will serve your will.”

A final jolt of pain made Synnove jump, pulling her hand from her shoulder and studying the black, inky residue that dripped down her now bare arm and stained her fingers.

“ _Ty sjukt ublyudok-_ _Show yourself!_ ” Synnove growled, chest heaving. But whomever was speaking just let out a low chuckle.

“ _Come find me._ ”

Synnove growled low in her throat as the trees surrounding her parted. She struggled for a moment but eventually got up, ignoring the blood dripping from the now torn stitches on her hip and the ink still oozing from her shoulder. The ground before her split in two, leaving an endless crevice in the earth dangerously close to where she stood. Suddenly her shoulder began to burn again and she looked back as best she could to try and examine what damage was done.

Her shoulder was _glowing_ \- icy blue like the sky and emanating a chilling aura, burning the nearby skin and turning it black and blue. She cursed silently, rolling her shoulder and trying to figure out if there was any other damage. Her shoulder moved well, despite the occasional burning sensation, and she made an effort to rub off the residual ink still on her forearm. As she stretched her arm out, however, she felt a chill run across the skin.

Synnove’s eyes widened as shining symbols etched themselves across her skin- the same kinds of symbols she'd etched into whale bones and seal tusks for good fortune. They spread down as if they were tattooing themselves onto her body, and Synnove clenched her fist as they reached her fingertips, bursting into an aura of blue haze and forming a flattened ring around the end of her hand.

She moved back from the gap in the Earth for a moment, examining the symbols that formed around the ring. An hourglass, a hooded figure, and a spike were some of the more recognizable ones, and as Synnove rotated her wrist she watched as a different symbol shone more prominently, depending on how she moved her hand.

She rotated her hand to the left, allowing her palm to face up as the ring highlighted a symbol of an anchor. At that her palm began to glow, and she looked out across the endless expanse before her, and had a nagging inclination to-

No. No, she’s not doing that…

Taking a deep breath, Synnove tightened her glowing fist, taking a few steps back before breaking into a sprint. She closed her eyes briefly as she came to the edge of the grass, shifting her weight and throwing herself across the gap. For a split second she felt as if her consciousness left her body, staying behind while the rest of her was thrown across the gap, a blur or cerulean soon effortlessly landing on the other side.

Synnove gasped as she came back to reality- as real as this place could get- feeling sick to her stomach as she stumbled further down the path. Whatever nightmare this was, she wanted out of it, but the more she thought about turning back, the more an unknown force seemed to spur her to continue forward.

“Who are you!” She called out, stopping for a moment as she leaned against a tree. The loss of control she’d experienced earlier had worn her out, and Synnove struggled to stay upright as he head spun and her stomach clenched. The markings on her arm pulsated with light and she glanced down at them, extending her arm once more and rotating through symbols as she had earlier. The ring around her hand immediately shifted to highlight a skull-like object with an elongated nose, and Synnove sighed, hoping that activating it meant she could just wake up and be back to her quiet flat in Tamarak.

Tightening her fist as she did before, Synnove gasped, clutching her stomach and resisting the urge to curl into a ball and cry out as all of her muscles contracted. Her vision went dark for a second, restoring itself a moment later, although everything in sight was tinted blue. Within an instant she felt oddly relieved- the pain from her torn stitches, gone, the nausea in her gut, gone, the constant feeling of unease, _gone_.

“Good. You’re learning how to use your gift.”

Synnove jumped to attention at this, surprising herself when she effortlessly rolled to a standing position, and hating herself for instantly activating the glowing ring around her hand.

The forest path changed around her once again, shifting into a clearing with a wooden table-like object in the center. Synnove cautiously approached, sidestepping around for a moment before continuing forward.

“You are like the darkness that your sky becomes on a starry night, Synnove.” The ever-present voice commented, and Synnove spun around for a moment, confused as to where it was coming from because it still sounded as if the speaker were right there with her. She then approached the table, examining the strange object resting on top of it. It was a small, fleshy object, shaped almost like a pouch, and entwined with wire and glazed with frost. Against her better judgment, Synnove picked it up. “You have just enough light to keep yourself on your path, but not enough to continue on. That’s why I've chosen you.” It continued, and after a few more confused gazes around the glen, Synnove saw him.

He was standing beside the table in the center of the clearing- well, hovering above the ground as if he were seated, weightless, legs crossed and arms folded over his chest as he leaned nonchalantly backward. He wore a high-collared jacket, embellished with gold and draping over his shoulders with regal elegance as inky, black smoke billowed around black boots and grey trousers. His face was thin and angular, with thin lips high cheekbones and a mop of dark hair. But what really caught Synnove’s attention were his eyes- they were completely black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured the end notes were a good place to put this, so here goes. This chapter is where I start to introduce more of the canon divergence aspect of the story. I'm interpreting things like supernatural powers, the void, the Outsider, and especially how Marked Ones cycle through their powers, so it might get a bit confusing from here on out. Fear not though! I'll always explain things that happen and why they do in the end notes of each chapter.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Vad eto koszmar- What is this nightmare?  
> Ty sjukt ublyudok- You sick bastard.


	5. Offering

Synnove awoke with a shuddering gasp, bolting upright and immediately wincing as she slammed her head into the underside of her kitchen table. Panicking, she immediately scrambled out from underneath it, stumbling to her feet and throwing open the curtain to the washroom.  
  
“ _Nej, nej, nej._ ” She whined, looking into the dirty mirror and examining the singed fabric of what used to be her left sleeve, running her hand over the tribal-like, black mark on her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, Synnove unconsciously clutched her arm as she left the room, running a hand through her messy hair and collapsing back down to the floor.

Blue eyes scanned the symbols and lines hastily scribbled and arranged on pieces of mismatched parchment strewn across the floor. If what happened while she was asleep wasn’t just a dream, she knew she had to act fast. But where could she even start?

A cold gust of wind blew under the makeshift balcony doorway and Synnove shivered, moving to tighten the ropes holding the curtains down as the last remaining rays of sunlight shone through. How long had she been asleep?

Shoddy as it was, the old tub in the washroom still worked, and Synnove took her time undressing as the rusty faucet spat out cold bursts of water. After a long while, she turned it off, hesitating for a moment before stepping into the slightly orange water, cringing slightly at the shock of cold, but settling herself down nonetheless. From there she washed as best as she could, using a mixture of oil and coarse salt to clean her skin and scrub her scalp, struggling with the knots in her hair before giving up on it entirely.

When she was satisfied with her bath, Synnove wrapped herself in the thick cut of material that she used as a towel and tied her hair back. She then retrieved the old sword she’d been keeping hidden for years, running her fingers over the smooth metal in admiration for a moment before grabbing the ends of her hair that reached nearly to her waist and sweeping outward with the blade. It didn’t take long before Synnove had cut the knots from her hair, tying the uneven strands back in a disheveled braid down her back, and gently placing the sword on her bed.

“ _Daj na_...” She cursed, huffing in frustration and wrapping a blanket around her shoulders as she dumped the contents of a large chest out onto the floor. She’d been adding to the collection inside for years now, salvaging bits of clothing, belts, and fabric she’d stolen with hopes of wearing one day, and now that her current shirt and jacket were each missing a sleeve, she figured it was time to find new ones.

The first thing that caught her eye was a button-up shirt, stained slightly off-white from years of sitting in the bottom of the wooden container. She decided that was good enough to start, pulling it on over her smallclothes and continuing her search. Eventually, she rolled up the long sleeves, tucking the bottom into a pair of warm leggings and slipping on three pairs of socks.

“ _Dobrze_ , at least you _look_ intimidating.” Synnove mused, going over her reflection in full-attire. Even with her dirty and cracked mirror, she could still appreciate the effort she’d thrown into dressing herself. If she was really going to go out there and find where her parents were being held, she’d have to look professional- show all those Guildmasters that turned her down what they were missing. As she studied herself once more, for the first time in years she genuinely smiled.

Synnove had taken a needle and thread, and altered a pair of dark pants to fit closer to her legs, wearing them over the leggings for warmth, and darted at the knees to eliminate excess noise from movement. Tucking her shirt into them, she buttoned on a multifaceted vest over that to restrict her breathing and avoid attracting unwanted attention. Her black boots, thick coat, gloves, and scarf went on over it all, bisected asymmetrically by the satchel slung over her shoulder and a few straps here and there to hold her poorly-polished sword and anything else she came across.

Making her way through the kitchen, Synnove grabbed a folded piece of parchment before strolling toward the balcony, going through the protocol of untying the curtains and moving the metal door away. Synnove stood there in silence for a moment, letting the cold night air clear her head and watching for any activity on the street below. Experimentally, she extended her arm, feeling the same chill on her shoulder and watching as the ring appeared again around her hand, glowing slightly.

Cycling through each symbol, Synnove selected the anchor once more, extending her hand and watching as a faint, blue glow hovered on certain points beyond her reach as she moved her hand. Settling on a nearby rooftop, she clenched her fist and- Synnove felt herself leave her body once more, shooting forward and onto the rooftop before she could process it happening. Synnove grinned to herself as she ran across the roof, quiet footsteps padding on snow and shingles as she made her way to the other end of the roof. She'd used the ability to swiftly bring herself to the street after that, swiftly leaping up off the roof and falling a short distance before activating it, clenching her fist and taking a deep breath before she accelerated toward the street.

Creeping through the drifting snow of the back alley, Synnove made her way out onto the street, pulling up her hood and tightening her scarf to conceal her face. City curfew would begin soon, but she didn’t care- she was confident in her ability to sneak around guards by the cover of shadow. Operators, however, were a different story, and Synnove kept an ever-watchful eye out for suspicious movement or a lingering glance from anyone out for a smoke as she stuck close to the walls of the building beside her.

Operators were the only thing that truly  _terrified_ her. Armed with powerful weapons and advanced training, more than half of the members looked like regular citizens, given orders to work undercover and mingle around, reporting any suspicious activity back to the Secretary and lower Guards. There was no way to tell if someone was one of them until it was too late.

Synnove looked up and down the street half a dozen times before crossing, swiftly running across the bricked surface and concealing herself in the alcove of Filat’s doorway. She pulled down her hood as she entered, breathing out a sigh as she made her way to the counter.

Filat went to make a comment about how she was dressed but Synnove held up a hand to silence him before he could finish, pulling out the folded piece of parchment and slapping it down onto the counter.

“You are leaving so soon, Anya? I’m hurt.” Filat said with a chuckle, looking over the list with a raised brow. Synnove silently nodded in response, watching as the shopkeeper stopped gathering goods for a moment and retreated into the back of the store. Synnove kept a hand on the concealed hilt of her sword while he was gone, not wanting to have to hurt the man, but ever cautious of what people did out of her sight.

When Filat returned, he was carrying a shiny-hinged, wooden box covered in scratches and dotted with shallow nicks in the treated wood. Synnove eyed it curiously from a distance as he placed it on the counter, unlatching the bronze clasps on the front end and opening the lid while the hinges squealed in protest.

“Come, come, try this on.” Filat encouraged, gesturing for Synnove to walk closer. After a moment of hesitation, she approached the counter and peered over the lid to see what Filat held in his hands. The object looked like a hollowed-out cylinder of metal, etched in a few areas, and bearing two hinges on one side, and two buckling clasps on the other. Filat grabbed Synnove’s hand, surprising her, and she made a movement to jerk it away. He insisted, however, and after a moment Filat had tightly secured the instrument around her wrist and tightened the leather straps around it before snapping them in place.

Synnove took a moment to examine the device around her forearm, turning it curiously and running her fingers over the embellishments. The metal on either side of her wrist was collapsed into itself, forming a telescope-like pattern on each side, that came to a small point in the center.

“Got this from foreign trader- says it is new weapon in Dunwall, for those stricken with the plague,” Filat explained, crossing his arms over his chest and gesturing toward her. “You push this and see what it does-” he began, reaching toward her once more. Synnove remained stiff and silent as he grabbed her wrist, folding her fingers down to grab at a notch in the metal over her palm. Both Filat and Synnove jumped back as two large pieces of metal shot out from either side of her hand, forming a wide, angled crescent shape, while the palm sprung outward to form a grip.

“You see! It is nice, no? Will keep you safe in frozen wilds.” Filat said cheerfully, turning around to get back behind the counter. Synnove simply cocked her head as she continued to examine it.

“... What is this?” She asked confusedly. Filat stopped his shuffling for a moment, popping his head up from behind the counter and giving her a scowl.

“That string? Grab and pull.” He commanded, pointing a fat finger in her direction and making a drawback motion with his other hand. Synnove opened her mouth to reply but instead decided to remain quiet, nodding her head and grabbing the thin wire that connected either end of the arched metal.

* * *

With her new piece of equipment, it didn’t take long for Synnove to make her way back home, confident she could keep herself safe as she climbed to Filat’s roof and jumped over the gap of the street. Landing with agile and practiced movements, she made not a sound.

As she neared her apartment, however, a throaty growl stopped Synnove in her tracks, and she skidded to a halt across the rooftop. Cautiously she peered her head over the alleyway between her house and the roof she now occupied, and her eyes widened in fear. Choking down a ragged breath, Synnove watched as two City Watchmen stood guard on either side of the recently unboarded doorway to the building.

“ _Eto ar za avfall iz vremya_.” One of the guards muttered, and Synnove winced as the mark on her shoulder began to burn, pulling away from the edge of the roof and examining her now illuminated hand.

“Alright. This is fine.” Synnove assured herself, taking a deep breath and giving in to the nagging want to use one of the circle’s abilities. Turning her back to the edge of the roof, Synnove hunched down, pulling her sleeve up her arm and inspected the symbols that floated around her wrist. As it had before, the ring immediately highlighted a particular symbol, however it was not the same as before- the symbol that it had selected looked like a hooded figure lurking around a wall. Taking a deep breath, Synnove allowed her muscles to loosen, clenching her fist and releasing it a moment later, spreading her fingers out toward the alley below.

For a moment it felt as if all the air in her lungs had been sucked out, and Synnove struggled not to gag as she felt a terrifying sensation, feeling as if she’d fallen through the roof she was sitting on. However, she soon realized she hadn’t fallen, but rather was pushed- an unknown force prompting her toward the shadow of a nearby chimney before spitting her back out onto the icy gravel of the alleyway, concealed by the shadow of the building beside her. For a long moment, she simply clung to the shadows, standing undetected as she caught her breath and studied the two guards a few paces away.

Creeping along the side of the building, Synnove took advantage of the blind spots supplied by Tyvian armored helmets and swiftly took out the two men. The first was easier- he didn’t make a sound as Synnove snuck up behind him, lightweight boots just barely imprinting the thin veil of snow between herself and the ground. She grabbed the man from behind while the other looked away, wrapping a hand over his mouth and an arm around his neck- he struggled for only a brief moment before he was unconscious and being dragged back toward the shadowy corner Synnove appeared from.

Little did she know, however, the shadow worked two ways, and as she tossed the man’s limp body into the darkness, she soon heard a loud clatter from the neighboring roof and looked up to see him hanging halfway over the roof by the chimney. This worked to her favor, however, as the other guard heard the clamor too, looking up and moving to draw his sword. But he was too slow, and before he even realized she was there, Synnove had already dashed forward, wrapping her arms around the guard’s midsection and slamming his back into the nearby trash bin. He let out a yelp of pain, muffled by his face mask and Synnove’s hand as she silenced him for a moment, soon grabbing his collar and roughly slamming his head forward into the pavement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been gone for so long, guys! I've been dealing with starting classes and a new job at the same time, and haven't had much time to write, but I'm back at it again. Thank you to everyone who's left a kudos or a comment, and don't hesitate to leave another if you have anything to tell me!
> 
> Translations: 
> 
> Nej- No.  
> Daj na- Come on.  
> Dobrze- Well.  
> Eto ar za avfall iz vremya- Don't be childish, it's just wind.


End file.
